SPACE STATIONS > The Cancer

The black craft docks

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Anonymous:
A black exterior of the shipped shined as it drifted slowly towards a docking bay.  The pilot leaned back in his seat, a metal head seeming to gaze out into space, with a metal hand clicking a finger along the side of his head.  That was when the other occupant strolled up into the cockpit and sat down on the copilot's seat, swinging his feet up on the console.  "Ey, they finally letting us dock?" he said sounding bored, "About time.  So what are we going to do out here Wraith?"

Wraith turned, and if a metal mask could glare, Wraith was doing it right now.  "Jack, feet off the consoles," he said and then looked back through the cockpit, "First of all, we need supplies since you've neglected to refill it before we took out.  As we do that we can take a little log of some of the races around here and maybe pick up some common information."

Jack gave a sigh  and slid his feat down to the floor. "You don't need to lecture me bro.  After all, you don't exactly to eat.  Unless we pick up strays, we'll be fine with food."

"Better safe than sorry with you."

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